


Longing for Lies

by Yunes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Lies, M/M, Soul Bond, Soul-script, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunes/pseuds/Yunes
Summary: In a world where your soulmate’s lies appear on your skin, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them, right?





	Longing for Lies

 

 

John was around sixteen years old when he first noticed something strange about his marks. He had always known that the chicken scratch like script was his soulmate’s.

For the first years of his life he had been blank, which he had always contributed to his soulmate having died before, but when he did receive a message on his skin, there was no doubt that it was from his soulmate. Noticing it for the first time was one of the happiest days in his life.

It was common knowledge and John had always been happy for there hadn't passed a day in which he didn't receive some kind of message since the first. All of them were kind of positive.

“I’m fine”, “It's nothing”, “It doesn't hurt”, “I don't mind” and “It won't happen again” were sentences that were frequently seen on his forearms.

He only understood the literal truth about those words when a teacher saw him regarding his most recent message. “It’s fine. I'm not hungry anyway.” It was a classic for his soulmate.

Strangely enough his teacher seemed quite stricken when she read it. “Oh, the poor girl”, she whispered, then gave him an obviously forced smile. “But you're lucky. She's a keeper.”

John blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she is obviously hungry but still gives her food away. You can't interpret it any other way.”

The boy looked at her incredulously. “What? Why would you think that? She said she isn't hungry.” Well, he said ‘she’ but thought ‘they’. He had figured out a year ago that he kind of swung both ways. Still, there was no need for anyone besides his mate to know that.

His teacher’s eyes widened. “Oh.” For a moment that was everything she would say. Then she sighed and sat down next to him on the bench. The bell that indicated the end of the break rang, but when John started to stand up, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, John. I'll excuse you from your next lesson.” Kind of wary he did as he was told.

His teacher sighed again. “John, you know that those lines sometimes appear when your soulmate speaks them, right?” The boy nodded slowly, not knowing what her point was. It was common knowledge after all. Well at least that was what he had thought. He had never bothered to check. Something told him it was coming back to bite him now. “Well, there is a reason you only have some of what she says on your skin. The only statements you can see are her lies.”

For a moment John didn't understand, then he didn't want to understand. “But- but I always read that she is fine. That she doesn't h-hurt. And I-” His voice faltered.

His teacher squeezed his shoulder, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry John, but she lied. I do not know her circumstances or her reasons, but if what you say is true, then she has a lot of hardship to deal with.”

That was the day that John learned the truth about soul-script. It only told you lies.

 

Harry learned the truth about soul-script his first week in Hogwarts. It was the first class of charms and professor Flitwick was smiling at them with anticipation as he greeted them enthusiastically.

“Now who of you knows about charms and what distinguishes them from other forms of magic, say curses. Ah yes, Miss…?”

A bushy haired girl replied eagerly: “Granger, sir. A charm is a universal form of magic that, if casted correctly, affects all things it is casted on the same way, while curses for example differ in their results.”

“Excellent explanation, Miss Granger. One point to Gryffindor.” Said girl looked extremely pleased. “An excellent example for a charm is the soul-script we all share. It is a charm that Merlin, if the stories are to be believed, casted on humanity to let us always see the lies spoken by our soulmate. It always works that way, no matter who, when or where. Meanwhile curses can develop some…”

Harry stopped to listen in favour of staring down on his arms. His soulmate. He had heard about them before but never thought that there was a person made to love a freak like him. But now that he knew that his freakishness was called magic, maybe there was a chance at happiness after all? He did have the described soul-script on his skin after all.

He recalled the things that usually appeared on him. They were usually excuses about homework and being late, though those had diminished in the past years. That was good. It meant his soulmate finally pushed himself in school. Maybe he should try the same, now that Dudley wasn't in the same classes as him anymore and there was no fear of ‘showing their little Duddykins up’.

Though it was also worrisome. The phrase “I'm fine”, had shown up more and more as he grew up. Had something happened? Why else the need for-

He bit his lips as he realised what his soulmate must think of him always using it. Or all the other lies he had to tell people in order to make his life easier at the Dursley’s. His stomach rolled over. Probably nothing good.

Harry’s first lesson on soulmates had opened his eyes to new possibilities, because if there was one thing he had actually learned from his beloved family, then it was to always find a way around the rules.

 

“My name isn't Harry. I don't want to get to know my soulmate.”

John needed a couple of heartbeats to realise what he was reading. Then his heart rate shot up to astronomical levels. His soulmate was a bloody genius. Harry. His soulmate’s name was Harry and they wanted to get to know him. He smiled. That sounded like a boy’s name. So a guy it was then. Still smiling he said into the air: “I am not pleased to meet you, Harry. My name isn't John. I don't want to get to know you, too.”

“I’m not pleased either, John. I'm not exited. I didn't just find out the theory behind soul-script.”

John blinked in surprise. Theory? Was his soulmate some kind of kid genius or did he just mean that he found out about the principal of soul-script? Harry was a couple of years younger than he himself after all and he had just tuned twenty-one this summer. Well, only one way to find out.

That was only the first of many conversations between them.

 

“The mass murderer Sirius Black isn't my godfather. He isn't responsible for my parent’s death.”

Harry held his breath in fear and anticipation. That was by far the most personal thing he ever told about himself, something that could be traced back towards his person.

Normally they only discussed everyday things, things they did, things they liked. They shared their love for the sky for example. John had told him that he wanted to fly for the rest of his life and Harry had not even hesitated to answer that he wouldn't mind that kind of life.

But in their two years of contact they had never ever before told each other something that could hint at their real identities. Still, Harry couldn't deal with it alone. He needed someone to know, someone besides Ron and Hermione, someone who would understand. John had admitted once that his mom was dead and his dad didn't approve of his life choices. He had left home and they hadn't spoken a word to each other since. He was as alone as Harry was.

“That isn't hard. I'm not sorry.” There was a pause in which Harry considered letting matters as they were, but his mate surprised him. “Harry, I don't want to be honest with you. I’m not part of the United States Air Force. I am not in the position to make inquiries if you want me to, even if I'm not low ranked at the moment. But I don't want to leave the choice up to you.”

The thirteen-year-old stared at his arm. That was the first time anyone had offered to go out of their way to help him. What's more was that John had replied to his offer of diminished anonymity with one of his own - and left the choice to him to decide. Also, he now knew without a doubt that his soulmate had no idea about the wizarding wold.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to keep John out of the mess that was his life. “Thank you, but that will be necessary. I can't deal with my problems on my own.” If there was a murderer after his head, then the least he could do was to keep his soulmate out of harm’s way.

 

John did in fact not respect his soulmate’s privacy. Well, he did for a while after it had been asked of him. But around one and a half years later - and the information that Sirius Black had been innocent all along and was keeping in contact with his godson while on the run - there had been one last message from him, then not even a single more. Not even an every-day lie.

“I’m not sorry, John. It's better you keep contact with me. So I guess this isn't goodbye.”

Since then, there had been no more soul-script on his arms. But honestly, did Harry really believe that he would let him go after such a cryptic farewell note? So he had made inquiries - only to run into a wall every time he tried to follow his one solid lead: Sirius Black.

No one wanted him to continue his search for the truth. No one even listened to him when he told them that there was something more going on. No one answered him when he asked for any related family or friends.

One day, he woke up in the dead of the night with the familiar feeling of a gun to his head. Not that this particular situation was normal for him, but he knew at least how a pistol was supposed to feel like when one was threatened with it. It came with basic military training. As well as what to do. Remain calm and don't move.

“Lieutenant Sheppard.” The voice was indistinguishable from any other, blank without emotion. Special operations then. “By order of the president of the United States you are ordered to stand down. Don't make further inquiries about Sirius Black or the Potters. This is your first and last warning. Any breach of this instructions will be handled as treason to your country and you will be taken out of service immediately. Permanently.”

John gulped unconsciously. This was no idle threat, he knew. By order of the president?! What the hell was his soulmate involved with?! Still, there was only one answer he was able to give. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. You are a good lad, Sheppard, best flyer we've had in decades, a great career ahead of you. Don't make the wrong move and become traitor to your country.” The gun was removed but John wasn't stupid enough to move yet.

Only when he heard his front door snap shut, he dared light the lamp on his nightstand and look around, seeing nothing of course. Those had been professionals after all.

Potters…

Feeling a headache coming up, he laid his head on his knees, massaging his temples. That was it, then. He had done a lot of stupid things in his life that he wasn't proud of. But becoming a traitor to his country to find out news about his soulmate - who by the way didn't want him to do this, probably because he knew exactly how stupidly dangerous sniffing around this was…

Alright, John had to admit he was in deep shit.

 

Harry laid curled into a ball on his bed. He wanted to disappear. It was his fault, his fault alone. He had been so stupid and Sirius had been the one to pay the price.

He remembered the relief and love he had felt when his godfather had showed up, defending him with all he had. And for that, he had fallen through the veil. Now, he was dead.

The boy let out a whine, burrowing his face deeper into his thin pillow. Hot tears yet again burned in his eyes. He pressed them into the scratchy material until it hurt. It wasn't like he deserved any better. He was a murderer - no worse, he had tried to torture someone. He had tried an unforgivable. He was just like his enemies, like Voldemort.

Crying into his bed, he never felt so alone before. It hurt more to loose his godfather than never having had him at all. Not knowing how it felt like to be loved had been easy. Living with the Dursleys had been normal. Now that his friends no longer talked or even wrote him either, he felt the loss of Sirius with newfound depth. He would give anything to see him only once more.

Yet he knew, he didn't deserve him. After all, he had killed him. Just like he didn't deserve John. He was a soldier, fighting for the good of people, not a murderer like Harry. John had lied to him nearly every day, trying to contact him, ever since he had broken off contact. Harry never replied.

Even now, when talking with the other half of his soul seemed so tempting, he resisted. Even if Harry was worthy of him, which was not the case, John didn't deserve to be used as a tool for his own psychological welfare, used for Harry’s convenience and cast aside when the boy didn't need him anymore, only then thinking of his safety. No, John didn't deserve this. Harry had to get through this alone and leave his soulmate out of it, keeping him safe.

So he curled harder into himself and continued to cry.

 

Joining Black Ops hadn't been on the top of his to-do list, but his superiors subtlety hadn't given him a choice exactly. They were probably still worried about him sniffing and didn't want to loose him just because he couldn't damn well listen to one simple order to stand down. They weren't entirely wrong…

Cursing his luck to be posted in such a godforsaken no-men's-land, he took a look at his arms as had become a near obsessional habit. Two years of silence and not a word since Harry’s goodbye.

He stilled. There was something looking out from under his sleeve. Barely daring to believe it to be true, he slowly rolled up his sleeves. And stared.

“I’m not sorry. I don't feel selfish for breaking contact and only talking to you when I am at my lowest.”

John let out a short breathed laugh. “I don't accept your apology. I'll lie. It didn't hurt. But I really didn't miss you. I don't want to hear your sorrows, Harry.” The name of his soulmate on his lips felt like balm to his soul, like something missing finally found.

“My godfather didn't die last year.” John took a sharp breath. Harry had told him how having at least someone grown and responsible for you to talk to if needed was relieving, nearly like having a father figure. Loosing him… John just wanted to hold him close, let him know there was an adult in his life still.

“My headmaster didn't die yesterday. He wasn't like a grandfather to me.” John’s stomach turned, but he didn't even have the chance to reply as more and more script appeared on his skin. It was as if something had finally broken a damm inside of Harry's emotions and now they were coming out all at once.

“My school hasn't been assaulted just so the headmaster could be assassinated. It wasn't the teacher he had trusted most that killed him. He didn't beg him before his death. I wasn't forced to watch. He didn't die in vain. He didn't leave me with an impossible task. I am not planning on leaving on my own because of safety and secrecy. I know what I am doing. I am not afraid. I don't want you beside me but I don't want you as far away from me as possible. The people next to me don't end up dying. I am not afraid it will be Ron or Hermione or you next. I am not afraid that they're going to use you to hurt me.”

When it finally stopped, there wasn't any bare skin left on his arms. John had tears in his eyes, though he hastily scrubbed a handkerchief over them. He hadn't cried in a decade. But hearing his soulmate, hearing Harry, that desperate felt like getting gutted and worse.

How old was he anyway? John had been sure that he was at least five years younger than him, probably more. Now it seemed to be a lot more, around ten years, if he still had a headmaster and teacher. He even specified ‘school’. The poor guy was nothing more than a school kid.

But sadder still was, that John had no idea how to help him. “I’m not sorry. I know how to help you. I would hate to come over to England”, as that was where he had located Sirius Black hailed from, “but I am not currently engaged in a secret special forces operation in the middle of Afghanistan with no idea when I will be allowed home into the US. Still there is nothing I can say to you. Just don't keep your friends close. They don't seem to care deeply about you. I will not come as soon as I am released of my duty here. You may never talk to me when you feel that you need to.”

It was the only thing he could offer. John never hated his superiors for forcing him into black ops more than at this moment. He hated not being able to do anything.

 

The last year of his life had been strangely enjoyable, even though he had been on the run from a corrupt government, had to be a puffer for arguing soulmates and spent his time trying to figure out how to kill a madman.

Still, life had been good in one regard at least. He had talked to John each and every day. Sometimes short and sometimes not even receiving replies soon, but they had been talking nonetheless, Harry camping on the run and John camping undercover. Some tipps and tricks John had told him had relieved his life immensely even with his magic to help himself with instead.

It had been a good year despite everything else. At least he got to talk with John for that time, even if he regretted having ignored him for so long. Though he didn't regret having kept him out of it all. Now, walking towards his death, he only wished to have seen him at least one time. He didn't even know what his soulmate looked like, only that his soul was beautiful.

Sighing, he looked at his arms. ”I am not going on a mission today. I will probably be able to talk to you. Don't see you soon.” It seemed like he would part with the world without his reply. It was just as well. John would never forgive him for forsaking his life anyway, he was just that kind of person.

“I’m not sorry, John. I am going to live a long and happy life with you. I am not going to die today. I only regret having seen you. I hate you.”

 

John laid on the bed in his house’s bedroom. It felt surreal. The only thing even more surreal was the newspaper he held in his hands. Out of the stack of old newspapers from England that he had bought, this was the one that seemed most surreal.

England had been subjected to a series of natural disasters, as well as a lot of terrorist activities, terrorists who had managed to undermine the government. They had been stopped by the efforts and civil courage of only a couple of people led by a seventeen-year-old boy named ‘Harry Potter’. Said Mister Potter had not been available for a photo, nor statement.

John was no fool. He knew that it had to be his Harry immediately.

That had been four years ago.

Harry had told him around the same time that he didn't need to worry about him anymore. Well, he told him to worry about him to be literal. But the intention of his words had been understood as any other message that John had received over the years. Still, worry John did.

First, there had been a lot of obvious placating of strangers. Things like: “I’m honored”, “I'm happy to be here”, “I would love to”. Then, placating of people close to him had started. “I’m fine”, was his most hated phrase, shortly followed by: “I’m happy”, and, “I am perfectly alright”.

Things really started to go downhill when Harry’s placating had lessened more and more, his human contact obviously lessening. He talked with John less and less, took ages to answer and was generally pretty short in his replies if one followed at all.

The lies that had started to appear on his skin by then usually held an obviously faked identity. Harry started to walk around the world under wrong names and false pretences, a trapped soul forced to wander after his Odyssee.

And now here John was, reading second-hand information about his soulmate four years after his probably most difficult time, unbelieving.

Afghanistan had changed him. It had drawn lines into his face that he hadn't had before. Some things simply could not be forgotten, no matter how hard he tried. He could only imagine what this covert kind of warfare had done to Harry, a boy barely legal to drink by now.

His phone rang. It took him four rings to finally answer. “Sheppard.”

“Major, I have received a date for your military tribunal. It will be held in two days time. As you rescued a highly connected individual, they won't be able to strip you of your rank. So they will probably try to make your life hell instead. Keep a cool head, Major. They can't punish you for your disobedience overtly, but they will take any offence you give them.“

“I understand, sir.”

Letting his mobile fall next to his head onto his bed, he sighed and closed his eyes, wishing Harry was there.

 

Harry sighed. He had envisioned life after Voldemort’s death somewhat… more. It wasn't like he wished him back, really he didn't, but all this hero worship he was getting from anyone in the wizarding world was getting tiresome quickly.

Alright, he might admit that it really hadn't ever been nice. Those witches were menaces, always asking him whether they were his soulmates and such stupidity. And even his best mate’s family wasn't spared. Ginny had been trying to provoke him, quite obviously once Hermione had pointed it out to him, to jealousy by going out with boys he really didn't approve his best mate’s little sister to go out with. In short, Harry was tired of it all.

He stared at the obscure veil in front of him. For a moment he considered going to America, finding John and living a happily ever after in the muggle world. Then he shook his head to clear himself of such foolhardiness.

Wizards would never leave him alone, for the rest of his life. He had had to meet foreign dignitaries that looked just as much in awe of him as the rest of Britain. Going to America wouldn't change anything. Wizards would find him there anyway and then he'd have dragged his soulmate into this mess. As if John hadn't enough to worry about having just returned from Afghanistan.

No, he decided, he was better off staying where he was and sitting this out, however long it would take. Four years after Voldemort’s fall, things still hadn't changed. It was doubtful it ever would.

Adding to this his secret title… he had thrown the stone away, broken the wand and lost the cloak in the woods, only to realise a month later when he had bemoaned the loss of his heirloom that he was able to summon it to him at any time, even use its power without donning it, as was the case with the rest of the Hallows when he cautiously tried.

No matter how unintentional it was, he had become the true master of death. After having summoned all three of them, he had started to feel them pushing through his veins. Harry knew without doubt, that they had changed him.

They were the reason he now was here, in front of the veil of death.

It had called to him, even over long distances. It had called for the Hallows in his blood, for the magic in his veins, for the very soul inhabiting his body.

He felt like in trance as he reached out with his hand to touch the blackish, opaque surface. It felt like running his fingers through water. Without conscious thought, he stepped through.

 

“Ah, Sheppard, have you come to tell me that you're in?”

John levelled brigadier general O’Neill with a flat look. “Sir. I want to be honest with you. There is only one thought that kept me alive in Afghanistan and anything else I've been through. And now you're telling me to leave it behind and go god-knows-where with no assurances to return.”

O’Neill lifted an eyebrow. “What is it then? You do know, you're allowed one personal item, Major.”

“Not exactly, sir. If I'm to go on a one-way trip, I don't want to leave any regrets or questions behind. You know, sir, roughly ten years ago, when I was twenty-four, my soulmate broke off all contact with me in order to keep me safe.”

O’Neills gaze sharpened as he observed the young man in front of him. Breaking off contact with a soldier to keep him safe? That soulmate of his definitely had something more going on.

“When I investigated on what little I know, special ops broke into my home and made their point quite clear that I was to stand down, by order of the president no less, or I was to be taken out permanently.”

The brigadier general straightened and adopted an uncharacteristic serious posture. “The president ordered this? Are you sure?”

John modded. “I know, it sounds crazy, but that's what happened. You might understand when you hear who he is. My soulmate is Harry Potter, godson of one Sirius Black, who as I heard had been exonerated of all charges post-mortem.”

Those eyebrows shot up again, this time nearly reaching up to his hair line. “Potter?” He whistled loudly. “Major, you have one hell of a soulmate there. Even I don't have high enough clearance to access his file.”

The younger of the two looked at the elder darkly. “Well, I want it. They say you have direct access to the president and you want me on that expedition. I won't move an inch off this planet without knowing what happened to Harry. He hasn't made contact in years. Last time this happened, he was fighting a Guerilla war against a terrorist organisation.”

O’Neill sighed deeply. “This will be difficult to archive, but I'll see what I can do, Sheppard.” He showed a lopsided grin. “I do owe you after all for saving my ass with some amazing flying.”

 

John stared at the picture in front of him on top of the file. It showed the face of a young boy of seventeen, broad chin, slender neck, a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The most amazing emerald eyes. He looked a little worse for the wear, dirt and blood on his face. It looked like it was taken in the aftermath of a huge battle.

The soldier exhaled slowly to calm himself and opened the first page of the file that was stamped with a big red ‘top secret’ and a vibrant green ‘M.o.M.’. It was a birth certificate for one Harry James Potter, son of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Potter, née Evans, dated 31st. of July 1980 in Godric’s Hollow. Both parents were marked as deceased on Halloween of the following year, murdered in fact by a redacted criminal. In these papers Sirius Black was named godfather on Harry’s day of birth.

John sighed and flipped the page. Next there was a compiled report of Harry’s elementary school time in Surrey, England. He had started with good grades, then they had fallen rapidly. John grimaced as he recalled what little he knew about his soulmate’s early childhood concerning the soul-script he had received. There had been little incidents of teacher inquiries that questioned Harry’s home life, but had concluded that it was nothing to worry about.

In fact, Harry was painted as quite the trouble maker. Incidents like turning his teacher’s wig blue and climbing on the roof of the school building. Those instances weren't all that strange to John who had led an eventful early school life as well, but that made it all the stranger when next to those remarks was a stamp in the same vibrant green as on the file with: ‘Acc.M.’ The special ops in him knew, that they classified for something. What, he did not know, though.

He tuned another page. When Harry was eleven years old, he had been accepted in a private school in Scotland. This had been stamped yet again in vibrant green. ‘Wiz.W.’

Then began the most redacted file read that John had ever had the displeasure to read. They had given him the file, all right. But he hadn't classified to be included in all the top secret knowledge needed to completely understand it. It was apparently ‘against the law’, as the women who now sat on front of him observing him silently as he read on had said.

From what John understood, there had been a lot of incidences in Harry’s school time. At least two of which had nearly led to his expulsion, another that nearly closed the school itself. Harry had attended six years.

John halted for a moment when he read the last report. The headmaster had been killed and a lot of students injured in an assault by a terrorist organisation by name of ‘Death Eaters’. This had been when Harry had broken and finally reestablished contact with him. For a moment he closed his eyes, the hurt about this new silence still to fresh. He didn't want his soulmate to experience something this hard again, but wanted contact nonetheless.

He forced himself to open his eyes again and turn to the next page. Something that looked a lot like a wanted poster stared at him, the boy in it looking a little younger than in the last photograph. The heading was: ‘Undesirable No.1’, followed by: ‘Wanted, dead or alive’. That must have been when Harry had asked him for all those survival skills.

The next page showed the same photograph as on top of the file. Only this time there was a redacted article underneath and another photo of a group of young people, who had visibly been in a battle just moments before, standing unorganised next to limp bodies in front of a castle that stood in flames and ruin.

Sheppard blinked as he recognised Harry obviously grieving next to one of the bodies. What surprised him even more was the woman standing next to him, who hugged him tightly in a gesture of comfort. He looked up. It was the same young woman that now sat in front of him.

An epiphany hit him and he slowly but surely closed the file. “You came here to talk about Harry, didn't you, Miss Granger?” The smartly dressed woman startled. It was as good as any admission. He pushed the file away from him. “This file is so redacted, it is barely legible, and you knew it. That is why you came.”

Miss Granger stared at him, incredulously, maybe also a bit ruefully. “How did you know?”

John snorted. “Harry and I didn't talk much about actual people he knew. But the names he mentioned were Sirius Black, Ron and one Hermione, which I guess is you.”

Miss Granger, or rather Hermione, smiled sadly. “Yes, I am. He never told us your name, you know. I believe that was his way to keep you safe and for himself. But we noticed him staring at his arms a lot. It was obvious that you mean much too him.”

The soldier nodded shortly. He didn't need her to tell him. He already knew and hearing it only hurt so much more. “Then what happened to him? He isn't answering any of my messages anymore. In fact, there hasn't been a single lie in three years.”

She bit her lower lip, which slightly trembled, and gulped. “He-” She inhaled deeply and forcibly calmed herself. John’s stomach plummeted. “He was last seen in a secret governmental laboratory. The one- the one Sirius died in. He was his-”

“Godfather, I know”, he interrupted her rudely. He really didn't need her to tell him this. He just wanted to know what happened to Harry.

“Err… yes, well. The guard didn't think anything of it and figured, Harry just wanted to finally bid him a proper farewell, so he let him through without questioning. Harry never came back out. That was around three years ago. Every government in the world has been put on alert in case he is sighted, but there has been nothing so far.”

John had had to talk with left-behind family members enough to know what went unsaid, she didn't believe Harry would ever be found. His throat constricted painfully. “What-”, he chocked out, “what kind of laboratory?”

Hermione shook her head gently. “I can't tell you too much, except that this particular lab room has always been empty but for one ancient device. Centuries ago it was used to execute criminals, the particular method leaving no body behind to grieve for. But-” She bit her lip again. Even while feeling numb inside he noticed her red rimmed eyes.

“We have plainly no idea how the device works. We only know that it had been used because an energy pulse was recorded while Harry was inside and that it deactivated after, something which has never happened before.”

“So he’s-” He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence.

The woman nodded, tears finally having won the silent battle and rolling freely over her cheeks. “We believe so”, she choked out.

John started to breath heavily, rapidly. He noticed the begin of a panic attack and stood up abruptly. “Please excuse me, Ma’m.”

He mad to leave the room, but faltered slightly when she suddenly stood in front of him and pressed a card into his hand. “Call me, if you need to talk.” John nodded, shoved it into his back pocket and walked on, away.

He just had to get away.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did!
> 
> Comments are always welcomed to improve myself or stroke my ego:P.
> 
> If enough people are interested, I have started on a sequel in the pegasus galaxy.
> 
> Yours,  
> Yunes


End file.
